Equilibria
by EtherealShadow
Summary: During his sixth year, Harry winds up in the past- with his parents. All is well until an accident changes everything, and the future he returns to is not what he expected...
1. Escape

A/N: This is the second upload of this chapter, since the first one was a rough draft and really sucked. If you've read this chapter before, the beginning and the time of day changed; if you haven't read it, well, you won't notice anything lol. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Enough said.

* * *

He wanted out, and he wanted out right now.

So many false promises had been made, so many lies spoken. "Things will be different this time," they had said. "Dumbledore has realized his mistake. Don't worry, Harry, it won't happen again." Parting assurances, all of them flooding his ears as he had turned away from his home and stepped over to the frowning Dursleys. And, like a fool, he had listened to them, believed and took their words to heart. They wouldn't keep things the same. They _couldn't_ do that.

Yeah. Right.

He vaguely remembered some old muggle saying: "Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me". And was he ever the fool.

But never again.

It angered him beyond comprehension to know that they could stand there, staring him straight in the face, knowing full well how he felt about the previous year, and lie blatantly to him. Oh, it wasn't exactly the same as the previous summer, but it was close enough for him. Letters came from Ron and Hermione every week (though these days, he barely bothered to read them and never wrote a reply, crumpling them up after a quick scan and throwing them into the growing pile in the corner), and even Lupin wrote to him upon occasion, though his letters were just as boring and useless as those of his two best friends. He may have had to contact the Order every three days to let them know that he was well, but that was basically the end of his contact with the wizarding world for the summer. The Dursleys hated the fact that he had to constantly contact "his kind"; Harry still didn't think that Uncle Vernon had quite forgiven him for the summer before. Then again, letting an owl out every few days was far preferable to the appearance-conscious Dursleys than having freaks in odd clothing marching across the perfect lawn and up to the door.

The Dursleys themselves seemed quite content to revert back to their old trick of ignoring him, and Harry ignored them right back, rarely leaving his room and making it a point not to take his meals with them. If he didn't go down for food, they didn't bring any up, and the lack of proper nutrition only served to settle him ever deeper into his lethargic state. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought that it was still the summer before his fifth year. But no, Sirius was dead, the prophecy kept ringing in his ears, the anger and pain that had taken root a year before was with him now, always, and was magnifying tenfold every day that nothing changed…

He no longer cared that the Dursleys were trying to keep him under lock and key, didn't care that there was a member of the Order breathing down his neck at all times, whether they were physically near him or merely watching from afar, didn't care that Dumbledore wanted him to stay at Privet Drive. As a matter of fact, Dumbledore's wishes were what he cared least about.

Harold James Potter was bloody tired of being locked up.

The hot July sun was burning quite nicely in the sky, making the Boy-Who-Lived squint against its glare. He knew that somewhere out there, some random member of the Order was undoubtedly hiding under an invisibility cloak or Disillusionment charm and was staring up at him as he stared back down at the neatly trimmed lawns and perfectly clean cars that glinted in the late afternoon sun. His stomach grumbled loudly; though Dudley was still on his diet and had managed to lose some weight, Harry still wasn't getting any more food than he had the summer before. It wasn't really anything new- Merlin knew that he had been through worse.

But that didn't change the fact that it was just one more thing that grated against the sixteen year-old's already taut nerves. Frowning, he turned away from the window and surveyed his room. The Dursleys had locked his school things in the cupboard again, and sneered at him (albeit with slightly frightened expressions) as they informed him that he couldn't do magic to get his stuff out, as though he didn't already know. They all but kept him prisoner in his room, though Harry had to admit that it was better than slaving away for them and getting knocked upside the head every day for daring to breathe too loudly.

In a little while, the sun would set, the Dursleys would sit down to dinner, and eventually they would go to bed. Just before dawn, he would get his stuff out of the cupboard. Hedwig he had sent out for a few days with instructions of where to find him; if plans changed, she was smart and more than able to track him down on her own. In just over a month, Harry would be sitting on the Hogwarts Express heading home.

In the meantime, he was leaving.

* * *

He crept silently down the stairs with his wand in his pocket and Hedwig's empty cage in one hand, avoiding the creaking bottom step with the fluidity that came from doing similar things at Hogwarts and headed straight for the cupboard. He had picked the lock on the door the night before and set it back so it looked like it was still locked. Even still, he was immensely relieved to see that Uncle Vernon hadn't noticed that it was unlocked. With barely a sound, he slipped off the padlock and set it on the floor. As silently as possible, he hoisted his trunk out of his former bedroom, grabbed his wand, and headed for the door.

As Harry stood with his right hand hovering over the knob, he paused and took a breath. A large part of him knew that this was foolish, that he would be caught almost right away, that he ought to just sit in his room and wait out the last few days until term started.

_That's not what Sirius would have done_, he mused.

Unbidden, painful memories sprung to his mind. _"You made him stay shut up in that house and he hated it, that's why he wanted to get out last night—"_

_"I was trying to keep Sirius alive," said Dumbledore quietly._

_"People don't like being locked up!" Harry said furiously, rounding on him. "You did it to me all last summer—" _

_Dumbledore closed his eyes and buried his face in his long-fingered hands. Harry watched him, but this uncharacteristic sign of exhaustion, or sadness, or whatever it was from Dumbledore, did not soften him. On the contrary, he felt even angrier that Dumbledore was showing signs of weakness. He had no business being weak when Harry wanted to rage and storm at him…_

He rubbed his burning eyes with the back of his hand, fiercely willing himself not to cry. Sirius… it still hurt so much, so very, very much, that gaping hole inside him… But that memory made him go on.

With a sudden rush, Harry wished very hard that it wasn't Moody out there watching him through the door. His hand fixed upon the door handle again and he wrenched the perfectly white thing open and clattered down the front stoop and out across the walkway, heedless of the noise. "I'M LEAVING," he hollered at the street in general, nearly breaking out into a run as he approached the sidewalk. His right hand shot out, and with a great screech, the violently purple Knight Bus slid to a halt in front of him, making the Dursley's mailbox jump hastily out of the way.

" 'ello. My name's Stan Shunpike, an' I'll be your conductor for this morn—"

"HARRY!" someone yelled, though they sounded far away. Harry jumped aboard the bus.

"I know, I know, now can we _go_?"

" 'ey, no need to be rude!" Stan huffed, then caught Harry's eye as he flung himself down on one of the beds. "Oy, Neville, that you?"

Harry nodded curtly. "Diagon Alley, please," he said before Stan could say anything more. He dug quickly in his trunk, produced some money, and handed it to Stan. With a sigh, he relaxed on the bed once again as the bus shot off, hand wrapping around one of the posts in an attempt to keep himself in place. Stan kept pestering him, but Harry pretended to be asleep so he didn't have to answer. Harry watched through slitted eyes as, after a while, Stan pursed his lips and turned to watch Ernie's mad drive through… well, through wherever they were.

He couldn't stop a smirk from twisting his lips as he remembered how easy it had been to leave Privet Drive. Oh, he would pay for it, probably as soon as he got to the Leaky Cauldron. But even this slight resistance, feeble though it may have been, made Harry feel better than he had all summer. It almost made him feel better to know that, despite how hard the Order was trying, he could still break out of the nice little box that they were determined to hold him in.

He must have drifted off to sleep; how, with the beds sliding around and bashing into the walls, Harry had no idea. Eventually feeling someone watching him, Harry was jolted awake suddenly and for one wild moment thought it was Voldemort that was leaning over him. With a gasp, he jumped up wildly, head slamming into that of Stan, sending them both careening in different directions as Ernie stomped on the brakes and the bus stopped abruptly. Harry's head cracked on the floor hard and he had to blink stars out of his eyes as he hauled himself to his feet.

There was a muffled, "Ow…" from the end of the bus where Stan had wound up. Clutching at his head, Harry started making his way back to the pimply conductor.

"Harry!" His head whipped around to the door of the bus where a tired looking werewolf stood, lips thin with anger and looking rather like Professor McGonagall on a bad day.

Harry felt a slight pang as he looked over his former DADA professor, who looked exactly as Harry himself had felt all summer. Those magnificent amber eyes of Lupin's were darker than normal; his eyes were rimmed by thick black circles; more silver glinted in his brown hair that now more than ever resembled a wolf's pelt; there were deep frown lines on his face that Harry had not remembered. He looked _old_.

Lupin opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to say more, but then merely sighed and with a last look into Harry's eyes, turned and stepped down onto the street. Mouth dry, Harry found himself following guiltily.


	2. Kick

A/N: Whelp, here's the next chapter, hope you like! The fight was rather amusing for me to write, I don't know why. I was giggling all the while as I typed it up. Oh, there is a Portkey thing in here that someone's probably going to be bothered about, but there will be an (albeit rather weak) explanation later, because that's how things are progressing right now lol. Sew, have fun!

Oh! I redid part of the first chapter (the beginning mostly, though the time changed a bit) because it was a first draft and was crap, so you might want to go read the better version really quickly, just the first few paragraphs. So, I'll shut up now… :-D

Disclaimer: Do I sound like JKR? No. Therefore I am not she, and HP is not mine!

* * *

At least Lupin had the decency to wait until they were alone in a room before he spoke. Harry had expected the calm, controlled Remus that had a knack for sending him on such terrible guilt trips that Harry wished that he had never been born as he listened to the soft, disappointed words. That was normal; what Harry got was MUCH different.

Lupin stared at him for a moment, then opened his mouth. "WHAT, in the name of White Merlin himself, WERE YOU **_THINKING_**?" he suddenly hollered, voice thundering throughout the small room.

The sudden burst of noise from the normally quiet and reserved werewolf caught Harry so off-guard that he leapt, quite literally, a foot into the air and nearly fell off of his chair. "Um…" was his witty reply.

"Did you just feel like taking a little break? A little _holiday_ from your life?"

Harry squirmed. When he didn't answer, Lupin seemed to become even angrier. "WHAT?"

"I…" he trailed off.

"**_HARRY!_**"

Truth be told, Harry had been rather frightened at his former professor's sudden outburst; he was beginning to look a bit like Sirius' mum. Lupin had never in his life truly raised his voice at him. But the shock was wearing off, anger rushing to take its place. In a flash, he was out of his seat and facing down the older man, fists balled and eyes shooting a venomous glare. "How dare you yell at me? How _dare_ you! YOU ARE NOT MY FATHER!"

"No, Harry, I'm not! But he would be ashamed of you if he could see how easily you are trying to throw your mother's sacrifice away!"

"SHUT **UP!** You have NO right to lecture me! You promised me things would change, Remus, you _PROMISED_! Siri—" His throat constricted at the name; the wound within him was still raw, so very raw. Still, the anger coursing through his veins made him plow on. "Sirius was the only one who _understood_ and now he's gone and things were supposed to change and he DIED because of me but YOU CAN'T TAKE HIS PLACE! You and the Order be **DAMNED**, I'm **NOT** going to sit around while Dumbledore uses me as a bloody pawn and only cares about me when it suits him! Now LEAVE me _ALONE_!"

Lupin's voice was now deadly calm, and Harry knew that he had wounded the elder man with his words. "Like it or not, Harry, you _will_ return with me. You have not got an option. Or did you _try_ to alert the whole wizarding community to the fact that you're acting like a foolish child and running about without any protection whatsoever?" asked Lupin in a low voice that barely carried to Harry's ears. His pale hands drew a coin out of the folds of his shabby robes.

Harry stared at the medallion, which had an ornate "B" engraved into the surface, for a moment, utterly confused. A second later, he realized what the coin actually was, and he hurriedly backed away from it. "No!"

"Harry—"

"I won't!" With that, he summoned up all of his Quidditch reflexes and rushed headlong at Lupin, who made a move as if to detain him. At the last second, Harry dodged to his left, elbowing Lupin in the stomach and shooting past him into the hallway and down the stairs of the Leaky Cauldron. Heedless of his surroundings, he pounded through the main room of the tavern, ignoring Tom as he tried to greet the bespectacled boy. Within only seconds, Harry was out the back door of the pub and facing the magical wall that barred his way into Diagon Alley.

He practically smashed his wand into the correct bricks, so much in a hurry was he to get away from Lupin and the portkey that locked the door to his prison, nearly breaking his precious wand in the process. He hopped from one foot to the other as the bricks slowly rearranged themselves. With a quick glance back to ensure that Lupin hadn't caught up with him, Harry pelted into the alleyway packed with early morning shoppers.

Another hurried glance back showed that Lupin was coming after him, though the bricks were closing and the werewolf would have to open them once more. Just to be sure, Harry ducked down behind a family doing their shopping. Ignoring the odd looks they gave him, he watched Lupin pause in the entranceway and look around for him. As soon as he got the chance, Harry dashed into a nearby, rather deserted store sporting, of all things, Diagon Alley souvenirs. He crouched down between a stand of animated parchment showing random shoppers walking about with great smiles on their faces and bags full of purchases and a large rack displaying quills, which kept singing a little jingle about the greatness of the alley over and over in high voices, all of which were branded with "Diagon Alley" in flashing or sparkling font. In fact, Harry noted as he looked around, there didn't seem to be a single thing in the store that didn't have Diagon Alley on it somewhere.

He turned his attention back to the doorway, and after a while, he saw Lupin pass the shop without a second look and proceed towards the stores farther down in search of his lost charge. Harry straightened, nodded to the store clerk who was staring at him suspiciously, and went outside. Once back in the fresh air, he turned to look at the wooden sign that hung above the door, proclaiming the shop's name: Diagon Delights. Two moving mannequins stood in the display window, dancing around, and everything from their hats right down to their bootlaces bore Diagon Alley's name. Harry snorted as the male mannequin suddenly grabbed his companion and began dancing around, the both of them nearly smashing into the window.

Quite a crowd was gathering, watching the spectacle, and Harry quite forgot about Lupin for the moment. One wildly flailing leg knocked into the display backing, and it fell into the store, starting a chain reaction of falling racks and flying gift items. Harry was full-out laughing by the time the clerk rushed out of the store, Diagon Alley hat hanging on his head by only an ear, and started waving _his_ arms around and shouting at the still dancing mannequins. The dolls then proceeded to imitate the clerk, hopping up and down and shaking their fists at him. The pane of glass in the window suddenly disappeared, and they jumped down out of the display, seized the clerk, and began spinning him around merrily.

A heavy hand suddenly descended onto Harry's shoulder. With a startled yelp, he spun around, hand reaching automatically to grab his wand from his back jeans pocket. He did not relax one bit when he saw, not the amber eyes of Lupin, but the shockingly blue eyeball of Mad-Eye Moody boring into his own. "Didn't I tell you not to put your wand there?" he growled, pulling Harry back through the crowd of people and into a relatively clear area.

"Uh…"

"Moody! I'm glad you're here, I need to find— oh, you've got him." Lupin had come rushing up, probably attracted by the massive crowd now clustered around Diagon Delights.

"In the front, he was. Should have been in the middle, shields on all sides that way."

"I cannot impress upon you how very irresponsible that was, Harry," Lupin said, with a meaningful glance at Moody, who seemed to have figured out most of what had been going on. "Now come on, we're leaving."

"NO!" he yelled, causing a few heads to turn from the mannequins.

The hand on his shoulder tightened. But before he could do anything, Lupin pressed the medallion into his palm.

"I'll apparate first, make sure the coast is clear," the heavily scarred man growled, and disappeared with a pop.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught sight of Fred and George in their violently green jackets, wands out and laughing as they directed the mannequins, one of which was now juggling the other's head, the clerk's hat, and a Diagon Alley tankard. Then there was that familiar tug behind his navel and he was wrenched forward through space.

Thoughts flashed through his mind- the Tri-Wizard Tournament… Cedric… Voldemort… _"Kill the spare."_ His stomach turned over as the events of that night flashed before his eyes just as fast as he magically flashed through the city.

Then, mercifully, it was over. He stumbled as he landed on the front yard of the place he least wanted to be when his heart still hurt so: Sirius' house. His heart clenched at the sight of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. The front door opened and Snape stepped out of the house, sneering at him.

"Come on, Harry," Lupin said, his hand replacing Moody's on Harry's shoulder. "Come inside."

Something inside Harry snapped. "Don't touch me! I HATE YOU!" He violently shoved the werewolf away from him, then turned and bolted for the open door.

Snape barred his way. "Tut, tut, Mr. Potter," he said in his quiet but menacing voice. "I see the death of that mongrel hasn't knocked any sense into you after all. Just as arrogant as ever, aren't we, Mr. Potter?"

Nothing emitted from Harry's mouth but a bestial roar. Something inside him stirred; the felt the telltale signs of magic rising from deep within him. Some small part of him felt a grim satisfaction as the force of Harry's emotions coupled with his magic sent Snape flying, smashing into the wall beside the door and collapsing onto prickly bushes.

He fled through the doorway without watching Snape hit the ground. Awakened from her sleep by the noise of Harry's yells, Mrs. Black began to add in her own. "Filth! Scum! Abomination! Begone from this place! Son of dirt, besmirch this house no mo—"

She cut off in mid-shriek as Harry stomped over to her portrait with a frustrated, "ARGH!" and slammed his foot into the offending thing.

"AIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"SHUT **UP**!" Harry hollered, and turned to storm up the stairs and into the room he and Ron had shared the summer before, slamming the door behind him so hard that it rattled in its frame. There was a snicker from the direction of Phineas Nigellius' empty portrait.

He flung himself down on the bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling for a while. After a few minutes, he heard footsteps on the stairs. Harry turned over on the bed, back facing the door, and pretended to be asleep. Someone knocked once and then entered the room. He heard a soft sigh and then the person left. Harry waited until the feet retreated back downstairs before he rolled onto his back again.

He really shouldn't have gone off on Remus like that. He knew that the werewolf had been miserable, to put it lightly, since Sirius had died; if anyone could begin to understand what Harry was feeling, it would be his former professor.

_But how could he have done that to me?_ Harry wondered, anger suddenly returning full-force. _He _knows_ what it's like, _knows_ that I don't like Portkeys! How could he have tried to force me like that? And to come _here_, of all places!_

He stayed awake for a long time, too angry and heartsick to sleep. The house had its usual noise level as members of the Order constantly came and went and Mrs. Black announced her beliefs to the world, screeching even more than normal, probably due to his kick. His foot still throbbed from the impact.

Kreacher was nowhere to be seen; it was lucky for him, for Harry would have taken pleasure in blasting the horrible thing's head off, to hell with the consequences.

He briefly wondered how much damage he had done to Snape. A moment later, however, he decided that he really didn't care very much and actually hoped that the surly Potions Master had, at the very least, a few bruises. He would get a tongue-lashing, but nothing more- it was accidental magic, and that was all there was to it. But at least he hadn't pulled his wand on his teacher; he wasn't in the mood to be expelled.

Yet.

If Kreacher ever crossed his path again, the gods had better help him, for all hell would break loose.

With a grim smile on his face and thoughts of what he would do to the house elf running through his head, Harry finally fell asleep.

_He was back in the Department of Mysteries, staring at the tattered piece of cloth that had taken his godfather's life, wishing, praying that Sirius would come back._

_He stood there for hours, just staring at the veil. Finally, he slowly turned to leave. Just before he left, he glanced back one final time._

_A familiar raven-haired head was staring right back at him._

_For a moment, Harry watched Sirius and Sirius watched Harry. Then the worn face broke out into a wide grin. "Surprise!" Sirius yelled, striding towards him and wrapping the stunned boy in a fierce hug. "Sorry to give you such a scare!"_

_Harry was confused, knew he should be angry at Sirius for playing such a terrible trick on him. But there, wrapped in his arms, Harry's anger melted away like butter in a warm cauldron. He let himself forget everything about that day and the summer, everything except the fact that Sirius was alive…_

Harry awoke, the dream still wrenchingly clear in his head. As he forced the thought of Sirius' hug out of his mind, Harry had to force himself not to cry.


End file.
